Broken Brothers
by princessangelwings
Summary: John's Brother POV following where 'Two beds and a coffee machine' left off. you may want to read that one first, but you don't have to. Shep POV too. COMPLETE
1. Paul POV

BROKEN BROTHERS

BROKEN BROTHERS

ONE- Paul's POV

You know I idolised my big brother when I was a kid. He was just so damn cool, you know in that effortless, irritating way. My Mom never had favourites when we were boys, for which I was truly glad. See, at school Johnny was loved by all, and me I just sort of followed behind, always in his shadow. Don't get me wrong, I didn't mind, I knew it wasn't his fault. See, Johnny was bright. I'm talking super, maths genius bright. He was athletic and good looking, and best of all he was fair. Our Mom had brought us up pretty good- we didn't go to Church often but she believed in all those nice Christian values, and she passed em on to us. So yeah, everyone loved our Johnny, and well, so did I. That is until the day he left us. 

We'd often talked about our future, and our dreams, chatting late into the night in our shared room or after school with Billy, Johnny's mate from chess club. He wanted nothing more that to fly. His side of the room was absolutely covered with posters, pictures and models of flippin' aircraft of all shapes and sizes. Drove me mad, I can tell ya. We used to argue, 'cause they'd always be invading my space, where I hung pictures of bands I liked, and girls I fancied. When it came time for him to graduate, he told me he'd never leave me, that he'd get a job in town to help me and Mom. But he didn't; he lied to me and then he abandoned me. The night before he left, he got some beers and we sat out the back in the yard, mulling. I was angry with him, but he was far too excited to even notice. I could tell that there was no changing his mind, so I did the only thing I could. I told him, I wished him well, and ordered him to come home once in a while. I was angry but I did understand why he was going. Its not like people like us get a whole load of chances in life, is it? Like Mom always said, you gotta cease the day. 

The next day he got on a bus and Mom cried for hours. I ain't never seen her cry like it! Broke my heart, and for one selfish moment, I wished she was crying like that for me. Guess I did have the odd issue here and there, but hell, who hasn't? 

Fall came and went. Johnny wrote Mom letters and told her about his classes and societies he'd joined. He told me about girls he'd done and beer he'd drank, and I looked forward to those letters every couple of weeks with baited breath. It was like another world. I was fifteen then and high school was such a drag. Without my cooler, big brother no one noticed me at all. I hadn't really noticed before, but all my friends were Johnny's friends and they'd all gone to college or got jobs, so I had no one. I hadn't realised how much I relied on him. Around that time Mom got real sick. She was fine when Johnny was home, she'd make loads of extra effort to put her make-up on and cook, and be just like she used to be. Johnny didn't have a clue. She made me promise not to tell him she was ill. She said that he'd just quit college and come home to take care of her- she was right of course. But it was all so frickin' unfair! Here was me, her youngest, still in high school, lying to my big brother so that he can go and have fun. Where's the justice, I ask you? Life was pretty hard back then, and it just got harder. Mom used to make excused for why Johnny shouldn't come home and he bought them! But I knew the truth. He just wanted to stay with his new college friends and drink beer and screw girls. The year Johnny went into the Air Force was the hardest. Mom seemed to give up. As if by him making it, her job was done. What about me I wanted to scream at her! I'd taken care of her for four years, and now she was giving up, now that Johnny had made it to his dream. What about my dreams? My ambitions? My life? Did I not matter that much to her? 

She died, painfully from the cancer that had eaten away at her body, when I was nineteen. That last year had been the hardest. Johnny was away, fighting some war and I, having graduated, started what should have been Johnny's job at the local factory. To say I resented him back then is a major understatement. I contacted the Air Force and Johnny was on the next flight home. But it wasn't enough for me. I planed her funeral with Mrs. Woodard from the second floor, an old friend of Mom's. I didn't bother to contact Dad or Grandma, they'd never been there for Mom in life, why should they in death?

I didn't cry, not even once those 3 days of pure torture, as we arranged flowers, and silk and types of wood and brass handles. Johnny came back the night before and I made sure I was out. I think he spent that night in a hotel, but right then I didn't care. My Mother had died and my life had been left in tatters. But him- he had a career, social standing; he could go back to his war and forget all of this. But I couldn't, this was my life. After five years of struggle I didn't know what to do. To be fair, I was angry and confused and not necessarily at him. We barely spoke at the service, I couldn't even if I'd wanted to and he just cried; silent tears and the occasional shudder. When they lowered the coffin into the ground I saw him crack. He covered his face in his hands, making the cuffs of his smart dress-blues damp. A lone tear careened down my own cheek and for that one final moment, we were brothers again. 

The moment went, as did my family the second the coffin hit the bottom. Went it was over and the only people left were me and Johnny, we finally had a conversation. Well, I say conversation; I accused him of abandoning us, leaving me to take care of Mom and for ruining my life. He just accepted my anger and frustration. He even apologised to me for leaving. He didn't try and make excuses- I think he was just as angry as me; but with himself. 

"Paul, where does this leave us?" he asked between chocked sobs.

"What do you mean?" I felt sick; I wanted to hit something, anything. 

"We're still friends right? Still brothers?" his eyes focused on me, almost begging, but in my anger lashed out. I wish now I could take it back, but it's been so long. Too long.

"I have no brother." And then I turned and left the graveyard. I never looked back, and I never saw my brother again. 

I think about him from time to time, whenever I see a plane or play chess with my own son, John. What? It's a family name. Besides, I can't make up for how I acted back then, I can't ask for his forgiveness when I don't deserve it. I doubt he'd speak to me now, even if we met in a bar. Not that he'd recognise me. I've changed a lot since I was young; mind you I bet he has too. I mostly wonder if he's safe and happy. I suppose if he'd been killed I'd know about it- surely the Air Force would tell me, right? I'm curious to know if he's married or divorced or single or…you know what? I just want to talk to him, to share a beer like we used to and try to be brothers again. Mom would like that. 


	2. Sheppard POV

TWO- John Sheppard's POV

TWO- John Sheppard's POV

I was standing about in the control room, waiting for Caldwell to finish with Elizabeth, when I started to think about home. You see, it would be the eighteenth anniversary of my mother's death tomorrow, and once again I was not going to go visit her grave and lay some flowers down for her. She'd kept her illness a secret from me for five years, can you believe that? My own mother and brother keeping such life and death type secrets from me. I understand now of course, her reasons for why she did it. She was always thinking of other my mom, never of herself. I didn't really notice it so much when I was little, but as I got older sure, I saw. She'd go on dates with guys, but she never 'went out' with any. I'm not sure if it was because they saw us, my brother Paul and me, and ran for the hills or if she drove them away to spend time with us. Probably a mixture of both.

I do know it was really hard for her when we were young. She left my dad when I was five, I don't remember much about him and she never really said much. I do have this one memory though; I think it's the night we left. There's glass all over the floor and my moms crying, her hand is bleeding and there a man, tall and well built shouting at her. The room is dark, but I remember that the carpet was blue. The man has a bottle in his hand and I recall how those hands looked, strong and scared, I think now that it was shrapnel scaring- it looked similar...I guess that's my dad, but it's all foggy and I can't really see his face. Mom never said why we left, but if that memory is anything to go by, I'm sure glad we did. I don't hate him; I never got the chance- but resent him? Sure I do. She never had a bad word to say, she never once bad mouthed him to us when we were kids. She said if we wanted to meet, or whatever, then that was up to us. I never felt the need. The guy didn't try and find us, not even once, so he obviously wasn't worth talking to. And there in lies the resentment. I know that we left him, but to not try and find your own wife and kids? What's that about? I know I'd do just about anything for my family here on Atlantis and when I did have one on earth, I'd have moved mountains to reach them.

Saying that though, I did mess up pretty good the last time I saw my baby brother. I didn't know mom was sick for god's sake! If I had, I'd have come home straight away and take care of everything, but she knew I'd do that. Stupid fool that she was at times! I shouldn't say that, but when I think about how I missed those horrible years, when she couldn't get out of bed and was in so much pain she'd scream and have dreadful mood swings, ah I could just kick myself. I only know all this cause Mrs Woodard one of mom's friends told me. After her funeral, I went to her place and begged her to tell me everything. She told me the whole monstrous truth. And then she gave me a note. Folded into a crisp white envelope, was a hand written letter from my mom addressed to me.

_Dear Johnny,_

_I'm so sorry it has come to this. I hope that one day you will be able to forgive me for not telling you, but please try and understand I did it to protect you. I won't defend my action- that's between me and my maker. I wanted to leave you this so that you'll always have it with you. _

_I am so very proud of you my darling son, and I love you with all my heart. _

_Be kind and strong and take care of your brother, he'll need you more now that he thinks. Continue to be the wonderful man you are and trust yourself, don't try and second guess yourself and stand up and face whatever mistakes and misfortunes may come. _

_With all my love, hopes and prayers_

_Mom_

I cried again, for the umpteenth time that day. Mrs Woodard fixed me a cup of tea and I tried to explain what had happened at the graveyard, with Paul. She said to give him time, but I had seen the look in his eyes. My brother hated me for leaving and I couldn't blame him for that. In a few days I had to go back to Afghanistan so time really was of the essence.

I did try and see Paul before I left, I honest to god did. But he was never in the flat when I called and I no longer knew where his hangouts were. I spoke briefly, with my old school friend Billy and he told me that Paul had a girlfriend, a pretty brunette, who worked at the local school. I saw them together, from a distance; they were sat in Del's dinner, where mom used to work. I wanted so desperately to go and talk with Paul and I hate to admit it, but I was afraid that if I did, he'd look at me the way he'd done before.

I had a few other chores to do too. Mr Woodard gave me two other letters from my mom. One addressed to my Grandparents and the other one to my dear old dad. Apparently mom wasn't too sure of the addresses- it had been a long time- so someone had to hand deliver them. Guess who got that prize job. Yup, lucky me. I had some cash on me from my air force wages, so I stuffed what I could spare into another envelope and pushed it through the flat door. It wasn't much of a goodbye, but it was all I could do. I didn't leave a note, I guessed Paul would figure it out, maybe it'd help with the bills or something.

I left for the east coast, the day after we buried my mom. The plane journey was one huge blur, I still have no idea how I found my Grandparents house. A phone book and a lot of luck most likely. I really, really, really was not in the mood for a happy family's reunion. Thankfully I didn't have to suffer one either. The old woman who answered the door was so obviously my Gran. She had the same eyes and friendly smile as my mom had. Her hair was grey and she looked a little stressed, but she gave me a huge warm smile as she opened the door anyway.

"Are you Mrs Crosbie?" I asked politely, even though I knew it was her.

"Yes, can I help you young man?" she eyed me suspiciously, as if she was almost making the connection between my looks and those of my parents. I can't speak for my dad, but I do resemble my mom.

"I have a letter for you ma'am. Er… here." I gave her the note from mom and turned to walk away.

"Wait! Please, wait one moment." She studied my features and then looked down at the hand writing on the note. "Are you John Sheppard? Anna Sheppard's son?"

I didn't want to have to do this, but I guess I had no choice, this was why I was doing this task instead of Paul, he'd probably have swung for her by now.

"Yes I am. The letter is from my mom. Her funeral was held yesterday. I'm… I'm sorry." She stood there, her mouth slightly open with shock. I could see her point. Poor woman had just been told her daughter was dead, but then again, the other, less charitable side of me though, well it's not like you cared about mom or us anyway.

"Oh my, how… how did she die?"

"Cancer."

"I see, and you and your brother Paul, are you well?"

"Our mom just died, so no not really."

"Would you like to come in? I've just put some coffee on."

"I can't, I have to get back" I'd worn my uniform just for the excuse to get away.

"Oh right. Are you hungry? I could make you a sandwich to take with you."

"No really I'm good, but thanks anyway. Er… I don't suppose you could give this to my dad?" I presented the second letter and she took it from me with shaky hands.

"Of course, are you sure you can't come in? Just for a moment?" oh boy, she looked like she was about to burst into tears. What was I supposed to do huh? Well I could have ran like a coward, and oh god did I want that option, but I had this twinge in my heart, so I figured what the hell one coffee can't hurt can it?

"Well I guess…I am a little thirsty."

"Okay. Come on in, make yourself at home."

And so there I was, the day after my mother funeral, making small talk with my Grandmother. She was curious about our lives, but she didn't pry, she just let me chat away, about flying planes and little stuff. I suppose it was easier for her and it was certainly a darn sight easier for me. I stayed about a half hour; I really did have to get going back. She loaded me up with a few slices of homemade cake and sandwiches for the journey, which was nice. As I stood on the door step she asked one final question,

"Were you happy? Was my daughter happy?"

I didn't lie exactly. After all we had been happy and I knew it was the early years she was talking about, so I said, "Yeah, we all were."

She nodded and smiled weakly, as if the damn were about to break.

"Goodbye, and thanks for the cake." And then this time I really did leave. I left no forwarding address and I have no idea what was in the letters from mom, but I hope she's okay. She made good cake. Funny isn't it? My parting words and all I could think was, thanks for the cake! Still, it's not like I lost any sleep over it.

Parting words with my brother however, yeah, that was unpleasant. I never did manage to get hold of him. When I got back to Afghanistan, time had little meaning and before I knew it two years had gone by. Oh who am I trying to kid huh? I was still afraid to have that conversation. In a way, I guess, I still am. I can't shake that look on his face, whenever I think about him. I still have a few pictures from happier family days. There's this one of us all at the park, mums behind the camera and she's managed to catch us just as we're celebrating hitting a home run on the field. We have one arm on each others shoulder and the other punching the air. But it's the look on our faces that gets me every time; I'm taller and looking down at him smiling and he's smiling right back up at me. I think I'm about twelve, so Paul must have been nine or so. I keep it with my other photos in a small tin under my bed, in my room. The letter mom left me is in there too, still in the original envelope, even though it more yellow than white nowadays. I don't take them out to look at much anymore. Too much time has passed and that was another lifetime ago. I still think about mom and Paul, but it's rare. It hurts too much to tell you the truth.

Tonight I'll sit in the mess and drink to them both with my team, my new family. I won't tell them, they don't need to know, but some where in another galaxy I hope my brother is doing the same.


	3. Shep POV Tag to sunday

THREE- John POV (set after the episode Sunday)

THREE- John POV (set after the episode Sunday)

The Funeral in Scotland was one of the hardest things I'd ever had to do. It was one thing to bury men you'd served with, who'd signed up, with full knowledge of the risks involved, a completely different story, when you're burying one of your closest friends. A friend who was a civilian doctor, who'd saved my ass more times than I would like to admit.

I told Teyla it hadn't hit me yet; I lied. It hit me on Atlantis when I was alone in my room, only hours after I'd seen Carson's charred remains being placed, with up most care into a body bag. Rodney was a mess, I'd never seen him look so angry, and let's face it, Rodney's pretty angry most of the time. He feels guilty, I know. I feel the same. I sat there on my bed, took my radio off and just sobbed. It had been so long since I'd had anyone in my life who I cared about, I'd given up on it, that is until I met my friends and family on Atlantis. A long time since I'd properly mourned the loss of someone. Heck, I'd not even been as upset, as I was then when my wife left me! Although if I'm honest I'd left the relationship in all the ways that counted long before she walked out the door, and into the arms of another man.

I lied to Teyla because she needed me to be the strong leader; they all did. We were all mourning a dear friend, a man who's stepped up to the plate and done extraordinary things to save the lives of each and every one of us- on more than one occasion. I had my cry and finished the last of the good whisky, in a toast to him, and then I was back to being Colonel Sheppard. Stoic leader and the guy helping to carry the coffin, through the gate, and to Carson's poor ailing mother in the Highlands. My life really sucks sometimes. A friend's funeral, a friend who became family, really does suck beyond the telling of it.

The church service was lovely though, Rodney said a few teary words, as did Carson's eldest brother, who told us of Carson's joy for living and passion to help people. I couldn't have agreed more. I met his mother, dear sweet woman; she wore a huge black hat and sobbed into the shoulder of nearly every relative there. Believe you me, that's a hell of a lot of relatives. He must have had at least 12 cousins and their children as well as his own brother and sister and their kids.

The wake was surprisingly fun. I never thought I'd be able to say that I had a good time at a friend's funeral, but at Carson's I did. There was more alcohol being consumed than at a St Patrick's Day party in Dublin! It was held in a hotel's function room; I and the rest of the Atlantis crew were all staying over, so we made the most of it and drank like fish.

Rodney was recalling funny, if a slightly altered story to one of Carson's many beautiful sisters, or sisters in law; it was hard to tell the difference. The whisky making him slur and become quite loud. Lorne stood discussing American vs. British military with some cousin or uncle or whoever. I, Ronon and Radek sat at a table, nursing beers, while Carson's mother's eyes swam with tears of sadness and laughter, as his brother regaled her with some long forgotten childhood hi-jinks of her lost son.

As people conversed around me I found myself thinking of my own family. A glace sideways told me Ronon and Radek were doing the same. I smiled and remembered the happy childhood with my brother, the games on the park with mom; the burnt Sunday roasts, where once in a while mom would try and cook a 'real meal', as she called it. A great woman, a fantastic mother but about the worlds worst cook. By the time I was five, I could cook better than she could, although, beans on toast is hardly difficult. I remembered my mother sneaking into our room when she thought we were asleep, she's sit on the chair by the desk and just watch us. When she went to leave, she'd brush our hair away from our faces and kiss us lightly on the cheek or forehead. I often found myself unable to sleep until I knew she was in the room keeping watch; standing guard over her sleeping babes. I decided then and there to ask for a couple of days leave, once we were back stateside. It would be nice to visit the place I once called home and lay a few flowers in remembrance of my own sweet mom. With that decided, I brought my mind back to the present and began a conversation with the teenage boy sat on the next table down; perhaps he liked aeroplanes.


	4. Shep POV

FOUR- John POV

FOUR- John POV

I ditched my fellow Atlanteans at Cheyenne Mountain, I told them quite simply, that I had something I needed to do before I could go back home, to Atlantis. Lorne, Ronon and Radek accepted without comment, either they understood or didn't care, or in Lorne's case he knew not to question his superior. Rodney was a different story. As soon as I mentioned that I was taking a few days leave, which General O'Neill had granted me, he wanted to know where I was going and why. Man, he is stubborn; he collared me as I was trying to leave the complex and refused to budge until I told him something. I told him,

"Its family stuff McKay."

"Family? Nice try Colonel, you don't have a family!" he stared me down, until I though, what's the worst that can happen? I really should pay more attention to those Dr Pepper Ads.

"No I don't. But that doesn't mean I didn't used to. Did you think I just emerged from some alien cocoon in Antarctica to turn things on for you?" he looked shocked at my outburst, as if he didn't really think I'd tell him. The shock was soon replaced with guilt and then concern, with a good dose of annoyance, as only McKay could manage.

"Right, so where are you going then if you _used_ to have family?" he turned it around on me and continued pressing for information, I started to walk off, towards the elevator but he stopped me again.

"I don't want to talk about it, alright! There's something I want to do, I have time off, so I'm going to go and do it."

"What are you going to do? You've not answered my question, John." And that stopped me. McKay never, never calls me John, its always 'Colonel' or 'Sheppard', never John. I looked him in the eye and saw concern for me in his face. Ah hell. I'd only just accepted to myself that me team were my new family, but if I could see us as family, then there's no reason why McKay wouldn't too. I suppose I was like a brother for him. I suppose he was like a brother for me; an arrogant, talkative, damn irritating, but nevertheless loyal brother.

"If I tell you will you stop bugging me?"

"Yes"

I sighed, "I want to lay some flowers on my mother grave, there, happy now?" I expected him to back off, to say 'oh right sorry, off you go, have fun'. Instead he said something so quietly that I nearly missed it, nearly, not quite.

"Can I come too?" I stared at him in consternation, as he shifted from foot to foot nervously, looking at me with something akin to hope.

"Why?" There was an edge to my voice, a danger that would have even the most hardened marines running to their mommies crying. If Rodney heard it though, he chose to ignore it.

"Er... well I don't want to be stuck here on my own and a road trip sounds like fun." It's a good job the man never plays cards, 'cause he sucks at bluffing. I shook my head in amusement at his lies. I guess, though I'll never say it and he'd never admit it, that he wanted to keep me company, so I wouldn't be laying flowers for my mom alone. It was a sweet gesture of friendship and who was I to knock that? I might not know everything about McKay, but I don't recon family or friends were big on his 'to do list' before Atlantis. And as his sort of surrogate brother, I suppose he could tag along. If I'm honest I agree to him playing shotgun, because I did want some company and who better than a friend.

"Alright you can come. But don't keep asking me questions."

I only had three days leave, which meant a long drive down to northern California, one nights stay and then another long drive back. I hadn't really thought of the implications, of having McKay along for the ride would be, but fun wasn't what I expected at all. I stand corrected however, because it was surprisingly good fun. We argued about music in the car, and what snacks to buy, eventually settling on four types of soda and every type of chips the store had! As for the music, we rotated between my taste and his. I learned to appreciate classical music in a way I never thought possible and Rodney learned how soulful and deep country could be. We reached my home town in the small hours of the morning, around 5am, having left Cheyenne the day before. My eyes were closing of their own accord, as McKay took his shift behind the wheel. As the town loamed closer on the horizon, the sun beginning to rise, I found power reserves, as a rush of adrenaline flowed through my veins.

I'd not been here since my mother's funeral. I felt strange, like someone else had taken over my body. I was apprehensive but excited, like a child before throwing themselves across a river, suspended in air by old rope and a twig. I kept waiting for the slap of water in my face, as the rope snapped and I found myself soaking wet and covered in mud. I wondered if my brother was still here, if his family were… if he even had a family.

"So, what do you wanna do? Get a bed first or see your mom?" I though for a moment, and decided to get the hard part over with as soon as I could.

"Graveyard first. Turn left here." We pulled up, and parked on the street outside the town graveyard. It looked a little spooky in the dawn light, but not enough to deter me; after all I have faced down wraith Queens what's a graveyard to that? Yeah, that's why I'm shaking ever so slightly as I emerge from the car. "Wait here for me."

McKay nods and puts some Holst on the stereo. The music calms me, as I push the gate open and step tentatively towards my mother grave. My heart is pounding against my chest, in an attempt to break free from my rib's cage. The grave is the same as I remember, a little dirtier, with moss growing from the carved lettering. I kneel and brush away a few dead leaves and long forgotten bunches of flowers. I bought a bunch of lilies at the store in Canada, their looking a little worse for wear, but it's the though that counts. I place them against the headstone and I can feel my eyes fill. I have no idea how long a sat there, kneeling in the dirt, reliving memories of my childhood, rereading the note she left me. I knew it of by heart I'd read it so many times, and hoped like hell I've been a good son for her. Tears sting my eyes again and I remember my brother, how I failed him, how I abandoned him. Twice. I should have made more of an effort after mother's funeral, but I didn't. I can't make it up to him now. What could I possibly say or do to fix our broken relationship?

A soft hand rested on my shoulder, McKay, I guess it was time to go. He was tired and I'd worn myself out with crying. I felt a deep aching tiredness; I nodded my head and mentally prepared my drinks order for the bar.

"You're right McKay, let's go."

"I'm not McKay, Johnny." My eyes flew open and I turned to stare up at my little brother, his hand on my shoulder his eyes as filled with tears as mine were.

"Paul!? But, what, how…?" my mouth has ceased following my directions as had my legs, I tried to stand and fell into him.


	5. Paul's POV

Five, Paul's POV

Five, Paul's POV

God I hate having to go to San Fran on business, my wife Laura, always moans at me, like it's my fault the partners in the city can't cope! Our son's been in a spot of bother at school and she wants someone to blame, surprise, surprise I'm the scapegoat. So, this trip has fallen at a bad time, tell ya truth. But don't they always? Figures. I spoke with John last night about school and like every other teenager, he basically told me where to go. I have no idea how my mother managed, god rest her. She had two of us and no support, I've got my wife and all her interfering family and my son's getting himself mixed up in all sorts. Well I suppose it'll blow over, these things usually do.

I've got to be on the road by 7am so I decide, since I'm up nice and early, I'll go visit my mom, ask her advice. Yeah, I know its silly, but I always feel closer to her, besides I never leave town without stopping by her grave, you never know what might happen. I still feel like I'm looking after her, even after all these years, only instead of making her comfy or fixing her meds, I'm maintaining her grave. Your right it is a little strange, but we all have our quirks.

I drove to Del's and parked up, I'll grab a coffee there after I've seen my mom, and walked the rest of the way to the graveyard. The sun had only just begun to rise; a glorious pink across the sky. There's a black four by four parked just outside the gates, I've never seen it before. I know everyone in this town; most of them work for me. It funny really, how Johnny's deadbeat job at the factory turned out for me. I'd only been there a couple of years, when one of the managers gave me a chance, said I had a way about me, a brain. I grabbed the opportunity with both hands, and as it turns out I'm pretty good at business. Who'd have though it. Factory floor boy, made good- that's me. Don't get the wrong idea, mind, it's not all been roses and champagne but I've done alright for myself, and my family… what more can I ask for?

There's a man in the car, with light brown hair conducting some classic music on the radio. His hands are flying about at some speed and I follow his gaze to where another man is kneeling beside a grave.

My heart stopped beating for a moment, I kid you not. I stare at the back of his head, a shock of the blackest hair, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly. He kneeling at a grave I know all too well. A grave I have visited once a month for the past, what twenty years? Twenty two years? I've lost count. I've secretly hoped all this time, for a sign from him. A bunch of flowers with a card, to tell me that my brother's alright, in all this time there's been nothing. Not a card, or a flower; not a damn thing. And I can't blame him for that. the things I said… if only I could take them back, could relive that last day we were brothers… if only I'd know then, that my angry words would mean I'd not see him again… until now.

"Johnny?" I whispered his name, but the man in the car must have heard me. He's turned the music off and is staring at me like he's seen a ghost.

"Do you know him?" he asked, he gestured with a flick of the wrist to my brothers form.

"Yes, I think that's my brother." I have no idea why I'm talking to the stranger in the car, but then I think, he must be with Johnny, that's why he's sat in the car; waiting to take my brother away from me again, back to some war. "That is John Sheppard isn't it?" I phrased it as a question but I heard my voice quiver, I can feel my heart begin to swell with emotion.

"Yeah it is; he didn't tell me he had a brother." He spoke as if he wasn't too surprised at the news, as if my brother regularly keeps secrets. Maybe he does, its not like I'd know.

I felt the urge to speak to this man more, he must know my brother, perhaps he's a friend. I'm scared to talk to Johnny, I'm afraid of the hurt look on his face. The look he gave me once, a look that said maybe he deserved my anger. I'm torn between running away and running towards him. In the end I settle for taking to his friend some more, to give me time to think.

"Do you know him well?"

"What Sheppard? Yeah, I'm on his team." I watch as the man puffs his chest out, clearly proud to be counted as member of Johnny's team. Some things never change; it was the same at school. Everyone wanted to be apart of Johnny's team, whether it be football, math club or chess, they all loved Johnny.

"So are you air force too?"

"Me! God lord no! Unlike Colonel Sheppard I have a healthy concern for my own wellbeing. I'm a scientist, Dr Rodney McKay. And you are?" well that told me several things. Firstly Johnny's done well for himself, a Colonel, mom would be so proud. Hell I was proud of him too. Secondly that he's done some dangerous and reckless things wherever he's been based… obviously somewhere with scientists. And thirdly, that Johnny still prefers the company of geeks. If this guy wasn't military, then he must be a friend, otherwise what the hell was he doing here?

"My names Paul, Paul Sheppard, a pleasure to meet you Dr McKay." And I meant it. This man could be a missing link, someone to help smooth over our relationship. He seemed like a decent enough guy, with his pugnacious chin and Canadian accent.

"When's the last time you two spoke?" he asked. I thought about lying, but in the spirit of hope I decide, why not tell him the truth.

"At our Mother's funeral; I said some pretty nasty things to him." I'd didn't elaborated further, there was no need really, Dr McKay nodded his head in understanding and said to me,

"You should go talk to him." He was right of course. Johnny was still kneeling there, clearly crying, and dear God, didn't that just break my heart.

"Yeah, I think I will. Thank you." And that exactly what I did. I crept into the graveyard, as McKay watched from the car, his piercing blue eyes burning into my back. I stood behind Johnny for a few moments and just bathed in his presence. God, for so long I had wanted to talk to my brother and now I have the chance and I'm rooted to the spot with fear. What if he hates me? I'd hate me after the things I said. I managed to push past my fear, when I remembered the note mom left me. She asked me to be kind to him, to forgive her for making him go, and making me stay. She'd want us to be brother again, so I take the extra step and place a shaky hand upon his shoulder.

"You're right McKay, lets go." His voice is shaking too, and I mustered all the courage I could and replied,

"I'm not McKay, Johnny." He turns, startled, his eyes brimming with tears, as I know mine are. He make a few incoherent noises, like 'what, how', and then he tries to stand. I guess his legs had ceased up from kneeling, because he falls into me with a grunt. I support his weight and lower myself down to look him in the eye. Wow, his eyes are the same as the always were, hazel most of the time, but with flickers of green or blue depending upon the lighting. Right now they're more brown, and staring with disbelieve and joy at me. I have no idea what to say, so instead I wrap my arms around him, and repeat a mantra of 'I'm sorry' into his hair. He holds me close, almost protectively, as if he's afraid I'll disappear and whispers the same, 'I'm sorry' into my own, messy dark brown hair.


	6. Pauls POV

Six– Paul POV

Six– Paul POV

It was really him. I could hardly believe it, my big brother back here, after so many years. My heart had swelled beyond my body and emotions flowed out of me in a torrent of apologies. His fingers dug into my back, where he clung as if afraid I'd fade away… my fingers dug into his back, for the very same reason. His prickly, messed hair tickled my cheek, as I'm sure my slightly less spiked mass, was doing the same to his face. There were shudders going up and down his body, and I knew he was crying. My whole body was trembling, as tears and confessions spilled.

My knees were aching in the damp grass- well I'm not as young as I used to be, and not nearly as fit as my brother would be, after years of running around waving a gun about. I pulled away from him and started to rise. I felt his grip tighten around me, but I really needed to stand, so I whispered nothings into his ear until he relented. Wiping my eyes with my shirt I stood, noticed the sun was in full morning glory and reached down to help Johnny to his feet. He looked up at me with sad eyes, eyes that had seen too much of the world. Eyes that said 'I've seen the world as it is and I really don't like it', eyes that showed pain, raw and ugly. I remember when we were boys, Mom told us that a persons eyes were the windows to the soul, I remember thinking it was a corny fortune cookie statement, but looking into Johnny eyes, I wished like hell it weren't true… the though of what it meant for my big brother if it was true… was just too horrible to think about. I wanted to hold him, and protect him from whatever it was that made him vulnerable. I'd never though of Johnny as weak in anyway, and that hadn't changed, but my feelings that he was invincible had.

I guess I'd always had a bit of hero worship for him, just like everyone else. The kids at school, that man –McKay, standing by the car- heck even Mom seemed to think that Johnny could fix anything. Its strange really putting so much faith into one person, but then I though, people have been doing it for years, with TV stars, sports and comic book heroes. So my childhood hero had been a real live person, so what? I doubt very much that I'm the only guy in the world to idolize his big brother. But I also saw him, as a man that day… funny isn't it? You would think I'd automatically see him as a man; after all he is nearly forty. But to me he's always been a brother, okay not so much for the last twenty years I'll admit. But in my memories, he's been nothing more than my estranged older sibling. Now suddenly I'm faced with not only my brother, but also the man- John Sheppard. I guess that McKay sees him differently too… as a Colonel and as a friend.

I wanted to get to know this Colonel; I wanted to be his friend too. I wanted to drink beer with him, and chat about our day, just like when we were boys. I wanted to help remove the look of pain in his eyes. I pulled him to his feet and swung my arm across his shoulder, grinning like a Cheshire cat. He smiled back with that all too familiar cocky, lopsided smirk and leaned into my embraced, just a little bit. We walked in silence towards his waiting friend, but just before we were in earshot of McKay he stopped, and spoke softly to me.

"I'm so unbelievably sorry I left you." He looked at the floor, and I knew he was terrified I wouldn't forgive him. In all fairness it did take me a long time to forgive him, but that was years ago, and there was absolutely no hesitation when I answered him now.

"You have nothing to be sorry for… I'm sorry for driving you away. You should never have felt that you weren't welcome." I could see him trying to control his emotions, he knew I forgave him, and I now knew he had forgiven me. It seems it was the fear of not being forgiven, rather than blame, that had kept us apart all these years. I couldn't help myself laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. He joined in and I knew it was for the same reason that his sides were splitting with laughter.

"What a pair we are!" I couldn't have agreed with him more. We hugged again, this time a brief offer of succor, so unlike the desperate need of before. More smiled cracked across our faces and we continued walking to the car. McKay stood beside it, no longer conducting his own imaginary orchestra with his flapping arms. He had a strange unreadable expression on his face; at least it was unreadable to me. Johnny appeared to know the expression well and smiled broadly at his friend.

"Come on Rodney, I'll buy you a coffee, then we hit the sack." He turned to me; again he seemed unsure and slightly vulnerable and said,

"Do you want to get some coffee too?" I was supposed to be in a meeting by ten, but how often does your brother come back from the abyss? So I said 'sure', I figured I could call in sick, just this once. Hey, I might even have chance to sort out the problem back home with the extra time. Yeah all right, that is a bit too hopeful, but you know what? My brother just returned, so right now anything is possible. I may even play the lottery later. So I may lose a dollar, but with the way my lucks been so far today, I could be rolling in it come Sunday! Then again, maybe not.

We decided to go to Del's, mainly because it's open, but also because it's a place that has special meaning for both of us. Mom worked there, so we spend a hell of a lot of our youth inside the dingy little dinner. Jane gave us a friendly hello as we enter and a quizzical eyebrow when she spots Johnny. She's worked here for years, I don't think she's been here long enough to have worked with Mom, but she's not daft either. I can see her itching to ask, but I'm not really in the mood, so I order three coffees and a few rounds of toast and lead our party to a far corner.

There's an uncomfortable silence for a while and I have no idea where to start a conversation! The years are like a chasm, deep and harsh between us. I mean really, after 'hello' and 'sorry', whatta we got? A big fat nothing, that's what. Do I ask him questions or let him ask me? Do I talk about the past or ignore it, 'cause it's too painful anyways? Do I ask about his job or his family? What if he has no family? What if he can't or won't talk about his job? Seriously, where the hell do you start!? Thankfully, I was saved from making a total ass of myself, because McKay apparently decided he wanted a go at Johnny. Man the look on Johnny's face! Priceless. Where's you're camera when you need it, huh?

"So, when exactly were you going to tell me you had a brother? Did it slip your mind? Or have the thousand and one knocks to the head finally rendered you completely stupid instead of just mostly dumb!" his hand flew about when he spoke, I've never see anyone talk with their entire body before. It's really quite impressive. Johnny gave him a withering look, cocked his eyebrow and replied with more patience than a saint,

"No, I didn't forget Rodney… it just never came up. And I have no been hit on the head that many times, thank you very much!" I'm not really sure if that was his intention, but Rodney broke the ice, he gave us an easy way into the conversation. I was then able to ask them both about Johnny's head injuries, which created an opportunity for many funny anecdotes from both our worlds. Before long, we were happily regaling McKay with stories from our childhood, Johnny's collage days and my first tentative steps into the world of business. I learned a fair amount about Johnny's career, no by what he said, but by what he didn't say. He seemed to clash with the brass, which I'm willing to bet hasn't gone down well for him in the past. He clearly has the respect of McKay, and probably his men. But I suppose I already knew that. People were always clamoring to be on his team, why would that have changed? He worked somewhere top secret, they didn't need to tell me that, and really there was no need for me to ask about it further. He also didn't have a family, he never mentioned it, and that, in itself speaks volumes.

I guess it was nearing lunch time when the constant yawning of my companions started to get to me. They'd driven through the night to get here, and only had time to stay a day. I invited them to stay at my house, god knows it's big enough, but Johnny refused.

"I don't want to intrude and besides we've got a room already booked and paid for, but thanks for the offer." I knew he was lying, but I understood. He needed some time alone to clear his head… I did too, if I'm honest. He did however accept my offer for supper later that evening, a quick family meal before driving off into the sunset. I walked with them to their motel, which fortunately wasn't fully booked, and said my goodbyes.

There were a few hugs and handshakes and promises to be there for supper. I wandered slowly back to my car, a smile on my face and cheesy though it sounds, a song in my heart.


	7. John POV

Seven- John Sheppard's POV

So I chickened out- so what? I could see Rodney giving me the evil eye, when I refused to say at my brother's house. But I was honest enough with him, I didn't want to put him out, and I really needed my own space. I'd not expected to see Paul. Stupid of me really- I mean why wouldn't he still live here? Tell you what, it through me thorough a loop, but good. It was so strange, almost otherworldly seeing him in the graveyard, with the morning light shining behind him, giving him a holy glow, a bit like in those old fashioned painting of saints and such like. Bizarre, very bizarre. No wonder McKay said I looked like I'd seen a ghost. In many ways I had. In many ways so had he.

Coffee was nice, pleasant and civilised. After we'd both had our little cry over mum's grave, things seemed clearer- cleaner too. It started off being really uncomfortable, with the waitress staring at me, like I'd walked in with a green head and no arms! I had reason to be thankful for Rodney once more, when he revived our stilted conversation by aiming jokes at me. It gave us a hook, and both Paul and I grabbed it, like the hapless fools we are. Before long we were laughing and joking about our childhood, remembering the fun times at school. Remembering mom. As I talked about mom felt like a great weight had been lifted off me. I'd not spoken about her or Paul with anyone, since I'd left Grandma's house the day after mom's funeral. There was no need really.

People are strange creatures, they'll ask how you're feeling and pretend to be concerned, but the truth is, people don't want to hear about your heartache and misery; they have more than enough themselves. They'll nod or agree, 'yeah that's a tough break kid', over a bottle of beer, but come morning, they've forgotten why the new guy was balling his eyes out in the bar. Heck, they've probably forgotten the new guy's name. I'd seen it happen countless times over the years. Mostly people liked other people to be happy, or if they can't do that, then to be quiet. Keep it private. Locked away. So that what I'd done. I stopped talking about my family with others, even my wife.

She knew I had issues with family and we always spent Christmas and new years with her folks. The were nice people, even her crazy single sister, who'd get drunk and tell me I'd married the wrong one, then fall asleep in the corner with a Santa hat and glass of wine. Crazy Emmy, with her long brown hair, violent blue eye shadow and crimson lips; God, I liked her- she made me smile. She knew how to party; I'll give her that. The girl could out drink most men I'd ever known, including me. Hell, maybe I did marry the wrong one- Although I can just imagine the poor children, growing up with an absent father and a crazed mother. Yeah, on second thoughts, I did marry the right one of the two. Just not sure she was the right one for me.

My Wife was so different to Emmy, they had the same sweetness and kind faces, but where Emmy masked her pain with booze, Nancy was like me and threw herself into her work. I never told her my heartaches and she never asked. She told me a few bits about hers, like how embarrassed she was by Emmy. Yes, I know what your thinking- no wonder your marriage broke up. But we did love each other and for a long time I'd thought that was enough. I was wrong.

Sitting in the café drinking coffee, talking with my brother, about mom, really cut me. I spent the whole time laughing and crying, crying and laughing. I felt like I'd been thrown in the wash, and was ready to be hung out to dry, by the time we parted. He invited Rodney and myself to dinner at his house. We slept for half the afternoon, woke, showered and drove to my brother's place. As we pulled up I felt my mouth drop open. His house was massive, with a long sloping lawn hedged with pretty flowers. It was a newish building, maybe fifteen years old, all painted white with ivy growing across the front. We parked up and made out way to the door, hardwood with a dark, racing green stain, varnished to perfection. This house was clearly cared for.

Paul opened the door, threw his arms around me, while greeting Rodney merrily. I spied a pair of figures hanging back, whom Paul introduced as his wife and son. His wife was a similar age to us, with short light brown, slightly thinning hair with the odd grey speck. She wore a burgundy polo top, fine jewellery and smart black trousers. She reminded me of Elizabeth a bit; she had that same gaze of authority and caution. Must be a 'woman' thing. The second figure was obviously 'the son' I'd heard about earlier. I couldn't help the smile that curved my lips, when I took in his appearance. He had nearly black hair, just like mine, and a soft face. He wore ripped jeans and a dark coloured T-shirt which read 'Practice safe sex; use a condiment', with cartoon pictures of sauces on the front. He was as tall as Paul and had the same lean build as me. A few years before, people would have mistook him for one of us. Apparently he was causing trouble at school, something I could relate to.

Laura made a lovely meal of pasta, garlic bread and salad. The conversation on the table was mostly Paul's family asking about me, and me evading their questions as best I could. After dinner we sat in the den and drank beers, regaling each other with comic stories. Before Rodney and I left to return to Colorado and then Atlantis, I spoke with John Jr. he was hiding in his room playing computer games, when I did the unimaginable and invaded his privacy for a little chat. He was surprisingly open with me, and told me a few of his troubles. To be fair, they weren't exactly life or death, but to a teenager they certainly seemed it. I offered a few bits of sagely advice, not sure if I helped, but I'd like to think I did. I paraphrased Mom when I told him that his dad loved him, as the man he is, and the man he's going to be and that both Laura and Paul are proud of him. I told him that I didn't know until this morning that I had a nephew, but now I have I don't want him to ever feel unloved or useless in anyway. We had a short awkward hug and parted. I'm pretty sure John Jr went right back to computer games, but at least I tried.

We arrived back at Cheyenne Mountain late in the next evening. Unloaded our gear from the hire car, and made our way sombrely into the complex. The Journey back had been a lot quieter than the trip down. We took turns driving, keeping the CD player on low, just as background noise. Rodney seemed to be thinking about something or other, and I was wrapped up in reliving the past days events. There were so many memories, old and new flying about my head, it was like trying to hold on to water. We stood in the elevator together, and Rodney surprised me from my thoughts, when he banged his fit into the 'emergency stop' button.

"You kept your family a secret from me. I never knew you had a brother, or even a wife. Why? I need to know why my so-called-best-friend felt he couldn't tell me, about such an important thing in his life." He spoke calmly, annunciating each word carefully.

"Why are you attacking me?" I felt anger rise within me. I knew he felt hurt, but I'd kept my past a secret from everyone, not just him.

"I'm not attacking you, Sheppard. I just think I have a right to know. I've just spend two days supporting you, and I'd like an explanation for why I was kept in the dark for so long." McKay, was clearly having trouble keeping his own anger in check.

"I didn't ask you to come with me, McKay. And I certainly didn't ask for your support." I tried for sincere and failed miserably.

"No, but you appreciated it." I looked at Rodney's face and he saw that same concern back again.

"Yes, Yes I did. It was nice to have company. Look, I didn't keep secrets out of malice or anything like that, its just… its just…" Rodney placed a reassuring hand on my arm.

"Yes?"

"It's just that it, you know… it hurt to talk about it. So I chose not to." I looked at the floor, ashamed of his feelings.

"It's not a sin to have feelings. But when you hide stuff like that, you only end up hurting yourself- trust me, I know from past experiences. Lots of experiences." McKay pressed the 'emergency stop' button again, and the elevator continued to transport us to our destination.

"Thanks Rodney." I knocked his shoulder with mine, as we came to a stop.

"Yeah, yeah, just talk to me next time." I smiled as we walked down the corridor.

"Will do. See you at 0700 for breakfast?"

"Sounds like a plan, batman."


End file.
